


You Got Coin?

by Spubba



Category: The Hobbit, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spubba/pseuds/Spubba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Middle-Earth doesn't have a reliable foreign currency exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Got Coin?

Bofur, Bombur and Bifur didn't feel immediately unwelcome in the Shire tavern, but there was an air of discomfort that seemed to settle around them as they took their places at the table. Bombur was hungry as always, Bifur had indicated that he could eat, and Bofur wouldn't mind a hot supper himself as long as it came with a tankard of decent ale. They had been walking many days and this was their first stop in the Shire, perhaps only a few more hours away from Thorin's designated meeting point, but it was getting late, they were tired, and it seemed as good a place to rest as any and enjoy the local flavor.

Such as it was.

There were already a few stares and murmurs among the regulars, a crowd of ruddy, naked-faced creatures, all with pointy ears and curly hair. Bofur hadn't really met or conversed with hobbits before, and twirled his hat nervously in his hands while Bombur waved a flustered-looking barmaid over and Bifur stared back at the crowd.

"So what'll it be, then, Master Dwarf?" The young maid didn't seem entirely convinced that they belonged there. Her cheeks were very pink, for the tavern was warm, and Bofur noticed, with a little discomfort, that even though she was beardless she was quite plump and pretty, and that the style of her dress pushed her bosoms up in a most unwholesome and un-Dwarvish fashion as she leaned in close to take their orders. He quickly tried to find something else to focus his eyes on, which at the moment was pretty difficult, given that the entire room was gawping at the three dwarves and muttering about what strange folk might be doing in these parts. He settled for pulling out his pipe, and studied it carefully.  


Bombur either didn't notice, or was too hungry to care. He was busy ordering a loaf of bread with butter, and three tankards of the finest ale, and asking about the house specialties.  


"Mutton tonight, and taters," said the barmaid. "We always have taters. And maybe some beans, but I'll have to ask. You got coin?" The last sentence was delivered with a slight edge to her voice, as if the tavern had a problem with customers who didn't pay their tabs on time.  


"Two of the mutton, one of the taters, and some beans if you have them," said Bombur politely. Bofur had to hand it to him, he always tried to keep things smooth. "As for coin, I'm not sure what the currency is here, but we can pay." And with that, he pulled out his purse, rummaged around, frowned, and finally shook the lot out onto the table.  


The barmaid gasped.  


It was as if a constellation of shining stars had fallen out of Bombur's purse. Glittering diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds caught the firelight and scattered it in all directions. Now, to be sure, by dwarven standards, Bombur was not rich at all - these gems were quite small, and to be honest, not very good quality. They were only his tips from serving at his own tavern; he was a good chef, and his patrons were more than happy to give him odd-sized pretty rocks they found, as tokens of appreciation. He enjoyed taking these home and polishing them up over dessert, and so to him, this collection merely represented a pleasant hobby. But to the barmaid, it was as if he had poured the wealth of the Shire out before her.  


"[Worthless,]" said Bifur. Of course, the poor maid had no way of understanding him, as he always spoke in Khuzdul. Bofur shushed him.  


"No, no, Master Dwarf, those are much too fancy - please, put them away!" She held her hands out, as if warding off an evil spell. "There is no way we can accept these, sir, we have no way of estimating their worth! Don't leave them lying there, you'll attract all sorts of unsavory types!"  


Bofur nearly chortled at that - whatever unsavory type might dare make a grab for their things would be in for an awful surprise, since Bifur carried a boar-spear and he was fairly handy with his own mattock. And by the looks of the hobbits surrounding them, none of them would be much of a match for a tough, stringy old Dwarf, much less two, battle-hardened and scarred from clearing out Orc-infested mines. Even Bombur, who worked a relatively easy job compared to his kin, was handy with his cleaver.  


Still, there was the question of payment, and Bofur imagined that he could hear Bombur's stomach rumbling. So he withdrew his own pouch, and pulled from it what seemed like a reasonable sum - a single gold coin, ancient in design, struck deep in the mines of Erebor back in its heyday. There are many such coins, of course; Dwarves hoard them as well as dragons, and they are commonplace under the mountains, although Bofur was a poor miner and only had a handful of these to take with him on his journey. He handed it to the maid and she held it up, disbelieving that such a beautiful object could possibly exist, shimmering in her hand as if lit by its own fire, engraved with a symbol of crossed axes. It was most likely more money than she had ever seen in her life, although such a small coin did not represent a great sum at all beneath the mountain.  


"[Worthless,]" said Bifur.  


Bofur snarled at his cousin. It was at least two days' wages in the mines!  


"Master Dwarf, I can't accept this," said the barmaid, and handed the coin back to Bofur. "I'm afraid we have no money-changer here, and no scales to weigh such a coin on. How should we break down its denomination? Please, you must have something that we can accept as payment. A barter, perhaps?"  


Bofur and Bombur huffed and went very red at this, since there was not much else that they had to offer. But as they made a very big show of patting their pockets and pulling out random items - Bombur had a spoon made of iron, and Bofur had a cracked looking-glass that he'd found in a trash heap - Bifur withdrew his own pouch, and shook its contents out onto the table.  


"[Priceless,]" said Bifur.  


"Bifur," scolded Bombur, "She's not going to be interested in things you picked up from the forest floor!"  


But the barmaid's eyes went wide and she smiled. "White mushrooms!" she cried. "Oh, where did you find these beauties? We can put them in the house specialty soup! Do you have any more?"  


The dwarves did not know this at the time, of course, but white mushrooms of the Shire are greatly coveted by Hobbits, for their delicious bite and mildly tonic properties. Bifur had found some particularly nice ones, and apparently they were enough to flavor several large kettles of soup and turn the tavern a tidy profit. The barmaid scooped the mushrooms up and knotted them lightly in a tea-towel.  


"Right then, so you'll have two plates of the mutton and one of the taters?" she said, beaming. "And beans if we have them, and bread, and butter, and we'll throw some jam in for free! And drinks for the night, of course! Welcome to the Green Dragon, friends!"  


After that they had a very merry time, and the mutton was delicious, and there were in fact some beans left over, and the maid even brought honey to the table along with the jam. But Bofur found the ale to be the most agreeable of the lot, and he drank so much of it that he soon found himself singing and playing his flute for the gathered crowd, who welcomed the three dwarves as if they were long lost brothers. It was with heavy stomachs and light hearts that they left the Green Dragon, and Bofur had quite decided that he liked the 'local flavor' of the Shire very much.


End file.
